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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24802801">Guilt and Desire Pt. 2</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidsintern/pseuds/cupidsintern'>cupidsintern</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>also on tumblr! [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, implied mostly tho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:00:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24802801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidsintern/pseuds/cupidsintern</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For something so “intimate”, Billy tends to keep his guard up for shit like this. Shit like fucking around with boys he doesn’t know very well in the back of his car. <br/>But he knows Steve very well by now. He didn’t mean to do that. And it’s not just in the back of his car anymore, it’s anywhere they can manage. Like now, in Steve's room.<br/>Billy wishes he wanted to keep his distance as much as wants Steve. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>also on tumblr! [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Guilt and Desire Pt. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>in response to this ask:<br/>WE NEED A PRT2 OF THAT FICLET!!!!</p><p>ok so i did another thing! but it’s not really the perfect part two of the previous ask its mostly just, more abt what having guilt abt desire is like. which is. sad. even if you’re with someone you love. it just takes time -</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>For something so “intimate”, Billy tends to keep his guard up for shit like this. Shit like fucking around with boys he doesn’t know very well in the back of his car. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But he knows Steve very well by now. He didn’t mean to do that. And it’s not just in the back of his car anymore, it’s anywhere they can manage. Like now, in Steve's room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy wishes he wanted to keep his distance as much as wants Steve. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But it’s like Steve <em>wants</em> his guard down. Not to hurt him or anything, it’s just like severe, bone crushing intimacy is the only thing he understands. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy feels like maybe he shouldn’t want that. Or like he’s not allowed. Or maybe just that he <em>can’t</em>. Like he’s broken. Intimacy is for people without guilt. Without secrets. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And this is a secret. This stupid impulse dumbshit thing he’s been doing that he wants to call a game but it isn’t it’s very very frighteningly real when Steve whispers:</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think about you all the time.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy feels his blood turn to mercury. He doesn’t say anything, not like he needs to, not like Steve expects him to. Billy can just keep fighting the moans begging to escape from his throat. So he doesn’t get louder than Steve. So he doesn’t make it weird. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Meanwhile, Steve says whatever he’s thinking and he can still live with himself. Billy can hardly live with himself from hearing it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy envies him. This is the last great point of jealousy. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Christ, you’re so fucking sexy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy wishes Steve would shut up. He’s desperate for him to keep going. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can’t think about anything else.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Billy whispers it. He wonders if Steve will think it’s a response to his movements, not his words. Hopes he’ll guess at the truth. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Anyone else.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“God, shut <em>up</em>.” Billy tries but it’s futile. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I mean it, you’re so-“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Stop</em>.” Billy goes rigid suddenly, pushes Steve off himself in one quick motion. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve looks shocked and instantly Billy feels bad. And then wishes he didn’t because it would be so much easier to not feel anything at all when he looks at Steve. Not feel guilty or sorry or bitter or relieved or elated. Just nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What-“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just stop.” Billy sits back on the bed, pulls his legs together, presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t get you, man.” Billys not going to look at Steve so he doesn’t start crying. Because if he looks up and sees brown eyes dripping concern like maple syrup there’s no telling what could happen. “You just say whatever the fuck you want all the time. Like it doesn’t fucking bother you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“... Like, what doesn’t bother me?” Steve sounds confused.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This.” Billy can’t hold back the bitterness in his tone. “Like this just doesn’t eat you the fuck up inside when you’re alone- </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure it does.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy looks up then. Steve sounds defensive. Looks it, too.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then why do you say shit like, you think about me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Cause I do.” Steve’s keeping his distance, sheets and blanket between them now. “I do think about you. And sure sometimes it makes me feel like shit but sometimes it doesn’t. Mostly it just. Makes me happy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy's made of jealousy. HE wishes he coudl just say that back- <em>“I think about you, too.”</em> Because he does. But he can’t. Or he shouldn't. He wants happiness and he doesn’t get it and he hates people that have it sometimes but. He didn’t know <em>he</em> made Steve happy like that. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Happy.” Billy repeats.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.” Steve looks as vulnerable as Billy feels. “Does… does it not do that for you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What a fucking question that is. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Does this make Billy happy? To find out anything about his feelings Billy feels like he has to dig a mile wide hole in hot sand. But if he really tried, even for a second, stripped back all the layers to how he feels about Steve, then yeah. Yeah, it makes him happy. Before the guilt and anger and sadness creep in. Before he wants to claw his skin off for just wanting to be touched. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s happy. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No. It does.” Billy runs a hand through his hair, which doesn’t really do anything. The curls fall back around his face. “It’s just. It’s complicated.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy can feel Steves fingertips graze his cheek as Steve reaches up to push the hair back again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It stays out of Billy's eyes this time.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
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